


Soulmates

by TheOriginalSuki



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 11:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19790362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSuki/pseuds/TheOriginalSuki
Summary: Jon had had enough of soulmates.





	Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published on tumblr for Jonsa: A Dream of Spring event Day 4: Soulmates. I thought I'd put it up here so I (and other people, I guess) could find it without scrolling back for an eternity.

Sansa and Jon had been many things to one other. Sister, brother; cousin, savior; protector, sovereign; friend. The one thing they were not was soulmates.

  
Jon had had a taste of that, enough to last several lifetimes. Ygritte. Daenerys – especially Daenerys. With her, early apprehension erupted into a blind devotion. A kinship beyond kin sparked between them, and combusted. The subsequent fire spread, consuming anything and everything in its path. If it happened to burn a few white walkers along the way, it served its purpose. But it should have been no surprise when the fire breached reality. Dragonfire, molding into every corner and angle of King’s Landing. Love was a lot like hate. It occupied the same chambers in you: silent, sullen tenants.

  
Sansa had never been that. She had never been fire. In their youth she hung, peripheral. The subtle music of rain outside the window. Woven into the background of home, taken for granted like a pattern. When they met again after their sufferings, the feeling shocked him; the absence of her gone so long without recognition, jarring once she burst back into his field of view. They fell into each other wordlessly. They were not the same, no. But she made him strong, fortifying like medicine – not always pleasant but necessary. And over time, he found himself built up, not worn away.

  
Daenerys tore him down; little by little, stone by stone, until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. He clung to identity by clinging to his loved ones. He had to tell them the truth of his parentage because if he didn’t, if he slipped so easily into her heat, he might not come back out. It had been an assertion, a way of saying, _Here. Hold onto this piece of me because I can’t be trusted not to lose it_.

  
Jon wanted no part of soulmates now. He wanted Sansa. Sansa of the sidelong looks underneath slanted lashes. Sansa of the fierce North who somehow, after everything, could be mild as summer. He wanted her, not as a lover agitates to embrace his beloved, but in a gentle, unfolding consent, in a long _yes_ , renewed every morning, with effort and mettle, drawn out over days and months and years. And maybe, if the gods were good, that _yes_ , freely chosen, would become something of its own: not mindless and consuming like Daenerys’ flames: but new and fresh, wild in the ways only living tings are, growing arms and toes and eyelashes until, detaching itself from them, it moved into its own being, toddling out into the grass of the godswood and reaching up, up, with sticky hands, as if to fly. 


End file.
